


roar at the door

by towardbrevity



Category: Xena: Warrior Princess
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-25
Updated: 2013-06-25
Packaged: 2017-12-16 03:30:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/857269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/towardbrevity/pseuds/towardbrevity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Impatience or spontaneity or payback, who ever knows for sure?</p>
            </blockquote>





	roar at the door

They were howling with laughter, fingernails slick where they tried to scratch. There was bathwater _everywhere_ , wet handprints on the scrolls on the table, soaked silhouettes in the linens. Gabrielle had strode in and pulled her straight out of the tub and onto the bed without so much as a  _good morning sunshine_  or  _up for another round?_

Gabrielle had been fighting. She looked (she tongued the woman’s neck; she tasted) like the spar yard. Her biceps were still contracting. Her breath was hot out of her nostrils. Their kisses danced between mouthcrushing and featherfleeting and were all driven by some foreign influence. She could hear swords singing on the other side of the heavy canvas.

The adrenaline was… contagious.

*

Xena was on top, slid up to her knees and wringing her hair out above her; the droplets pattered on Gabrielle’s sternum like rain, eroding through the dirt and sweat. She followed them with her fingers, smudging her into a painting of soot and skin. Gabrielle squeezed her hand and guided it through her favourite brush strokes.

*

The spot where the bathwater had soaked into the sheets was still warm.

“You’re going to undo all my hard scrubbing.” Xena scowled from underneath her.

Gabrielle rubbed her sweaty, filthy brow along Xena’s cheek. “Poor darling.” She rolled her hips down. Xena groaned. The grit on Gabrielle’s leathers was sticking to the inside of her thighs.

“Oh no you don’t.” Xena hooked her legs around Gabrielle’s waist and twisted her off. “Game on, sister.”

*

She threatened the bucket over her head.

“You wouldn’t.” Gabrielle’s eyes were hard around the edges. Her fingers were toying with the fringe at her own midriff, moving down and down. Xena wasn’t taking the bait.

“I  _would_.”

“These sheets are expensive.” A hand disappeared under her skirt.

“They’re already wrecked.”

A mischievous laugh. “Right. Sorry.”

She bit her lip. She wasn’t sorry.

Xena upended it and Gabrielle shrieked. The lukewarm water soaked them both to the bone, spilling over the edge of the bed.

Gabrielle slicked her hair back off her forehead and wiped her lips with the back of her hand, for all the good it did. Xena was tall even on her knees, lean and victorious and crawling over her again.

*

It took considerable effort to peel past the vacuum of leather and liquid and find out where the rest of the water had snuck off to. Xena had a warm cloth drenched, and she was draped along the length of her with her head propped up, pushing it lazily along with one finger. The painting was watercolor now, and she used her whole hand; Gabrielle was arching patronage.

Xena felt buoyant and separate on top of her, like oil on the ocean. She dripped, and Xena drank.

*

“ _Harder_.”

It wasn’t so much a command as it was an observation. The humidity of the day was creeping in. The smell of soap was mixing with… everything else.

“ _Fuck._ ”

“Like that?”

“ _Gods_ I love you.”

Xena gritted her teeth and wrung out the corner sheets as Gabrielle slipped another finger in. She was still laughing, taking steady breaths to hold her angle. “I win this game every time.”

Xena wanted to wipe that smirk off her face. “Fuck you.”

“Maybe later.”

*


End file.
